Appalachia Year

Today my journalistic duties took me to a diner in Pickerington where Nick met me and we ate apple pie and did the crossword. Not bad.

I've obviously been complaining about graduate school for several months now. Something that happens when you expresses dissatisfaction with a certain harrowing stage of life is that people are really excited to tell you how much you'll certainly miss it when it's over. For what it's worth, expressing that sentiment as a sort of pre-emptive "I told you so" has zero effect on making that person take stock of their situation and finding solemn appreciation for its hardships. ZERO EFFECT. I will miss Athens, and the nebulous sense of "this part of my life". Will I miss the vague sense of being challenged intellectually? Will I miss the unmerited feeling of superiority that accompanies doing something that people assume to be difficult? I really, really don't think so.